A Bad Day
by Bejai
Summary: The Twelfth Doctor and River Song meet at the end of the universe after they have both had a very bad day


River Song had kissed him at the door to her cell, and he'd flailed, and stammered, and then broken her heart. A first time for everything, he'd said. And that meant, in her back-to-front life with him, that his first kiss was her last. Oh, she knew worse days were coming, including, as she had told Rory, the day that her Doctor would not know her at all, but today was almost as terrible. It marked the inexorable beginning of the end. In grief, she knew she couldn't stay in her cell that night, and so ran away to a trashy bar at the end of the universe to mourn her husband. She had no desire for company or conversation, and so slipped into a dark booth in the back. She ordered a truly nasty beer from the lone waiter-a bored, greasy, mostly human man-and growled at him not to come back.

So she was surprised when he reappeared and poked a dirty glass of scotch at her.

"I don't want it," she snapped.

"Guy bought it for you," the waiter shrugged.

"Take it away," she ordered.

"Leave it," a man said, stepping out of the shadows. Tall, thin, gray. She was in no mood to admit that he was attractive. "I'll drink it if she doesn't." He sat down across from her.

River laughed hollowly. "You really don't want to do that. I've had a bad day. So just move along before I start removing your body parts."

"It's fine," the man said, taking a sip of the scotch he'd ordered for her. "I've had a bad day too."

River pulled out her gun and leveled it at his head. "Leave," she said. He just smirked.

"Had a falling out with your man?" he asked.

She lifted an eyebrow and cocked the gun. "A last kiss, not that it is any of your business. And you are really, _really_, pressing your luck, buddy."

"Here's the thing," he said, leaning forward conversationally. "I recognize the little bracelet you're wearing there. A vortex manipulator, which makes you a time traveler. So let's suppose that you are after the end of everything, like you say. Past hope, past love, all that a thousand years behind you. And then maybe you have a really spectacularly awful day, and so you turn your little time machine around, and break all the rules, and find your love at some dive bar at the end of the universe, to share some bad beer and foul scotch. Couldn't a time traveler do that?"

River lowered her gun. "Hello, sweetie," she said wearily. "A bad day for you too, then?"

"One of the worst," the Doctor replied.

"New face?" she asked.

"Newish."

"You could have just said it was you," River sighed. "And I thought you were out of new faces."

"I was."

River swirled her beer absently. "Nice trick, then." she said into the silence. "Can't say that I'm surprised. Good to see you still in the universe, after, what did you say? 'Past hope, past love, a thousand years'? We must have had a truly epic falling out for you to avoid me for a thousand years."

His gaze flickered. "Yes, right, future you is cross at me. So, so cross. Which is why I came to find a you that would be glad to see me, because I could really do without the slap that you owe me, because of your terrible crossness. Which I deserve."

River smiled sadly at him. He was blustering. And he was old. So very much older than she had ever seen him. Not from his gray hair or worn face. She didn't mind those. No, she could see the weight of millennia in his eyes. "So," River said gently. "I'm dead then."

He shrugged, all shoulders and sorrow. "We're all dead somewhere, you know. We all have a tomb waiting. Well, maybe not me. I thought I knew where mine was. Even visited it once. Twice. And then it turned out I didn't die after all, so maybe I don't have one." Oh, he was blustering badly.

River tilted her head at him.

He sighed. "In my defense, this is not the first time I've seen you since you've been dead."

River blinked. "You are slopping the spoilers everywhere tonight," she chided.

He tilted his head back, resting it on the grimy seat back, and closed his eyes. "Of course, we are all alive somewhere too," he whispered. "Tell me about your day, dear."

"Don't you know?" she asked, and swallowed more of her awful beer.

"I have a good guess. Tell me anyway."

"It's been a long day," River said. "About three months long, in fact, give or take." The Doctor nodded; he clearly knew when she was. "First I got to watch you die in Utah, so that was fun. And then I got to face all of my nightmares at once. And then I kissed you and lost you forever."

"Bad day."

"Yep."

"About that. You told me once, that is, you will tell me-" he began.

"Spoilers," she interrupted, raising a warning finger to her lips.

He waved his hands vaguely in the air, eyes still closed as he rested his head. "Don't care. You told me that, for the longest time, we lived our lives strictly back to front. Every time we met, you knew me more, and I knew you less. A precise, linear, backward progression. I didn't notice from my end because I was living it in the right order, at least at the start, but you felt it. You lost more of me every time we met." He cracked one eye to look at her. "You told me that it was always that way, until one day you met a me who was out of order, and you realized that it didn't have to be a straight line. And from then on, it wasn't..

River's breath caught. "This isn't a one-off?" she asked, reckless of the spoilers.

"No," he said, eyes closed again. "We start to loop all around each other's timelines from here on out. It's mad fun. Keep that diary updated."

"Oh, thank God," she whispered, profound relief coming with understanding. "So, I'll meet a you that doesn't know me, someday, but it won't be the end after all."

He cleared his throat. "Right. That would be the natural implication."

"Hang on," she said, reaching across the table to grab his hand. "If we are akimbo in each other's timelines, then why haven't you seen me in a thousand years?" To her surprise, he recoiled backward before she could touch him, wrapping his hands around his drink. His reaction hurt. "Doctor?"

He put his drink in front of him and scrubbed his hands through his hair. He wouldn't look at her. In fact, he hadn't looked squarely at her since he'd arrived. "You bore the burden of our relationship in the beginning, I bear it in the end," he continued at last. "To me, every you alive in the universe is behind me. I remember the look in your eyes each time I wasn't as far along as you hoped. I didn't think I could bear that like you did, so I stayed away. I was right too, I can't bear it."

River placed her hands on the table, careful not to spook him. "Then why are you here now?" she asked gently.

"Really bad day," he answered, his head in his hands.

"So you said. Tell me."

He laughed hollowly. "Oh, the spoilers."

"I'm dead," she answered, "so it doesn't matter."

"Not yours," he said, eyeing her hand on the table, reaching into his personal space. "Mine. And there are some whoppers."

"I can keep a secret."

"Not these secrets."

She chewed on her lip and waited. Even after a thousand years, she figured she could wait him out.

Silence.

She would have to drag it out of him. "So," she said, conversationally, leaning back out of his space, surrendering to the whatever it was hang-up that he seemed to be having about touch. "Are you traveling alone?"

"I am now." _Ah. Problem one._

"What happened to her?" River asked, patiently.

"Oi! You just assume it was a her!" the Doctor said. "I travel with all sorts of people. Men. Women. Androgynous beings. Your dad, for example, was almost certainly a man."

River smirked. "What was her name?"

"Clara." The Doctor sighed. "You would have liked her. Or not. One or the other."

"And what happened to her ...?" River prompted.

"I lied to her and left," the Doctor said shortly, jaw clenched.

"The usual then?" River said, trying to keep it light.

"Right."

River shook her head. He was obviously done on that subject. He was also obviously not all right. _Clearly_ not all right. There was more, bunched up in him like coiled springs. River didn't have to touch him to feel it pulsing through him.

"And...?" River asked. She was surprised when he heaved himself to his feet. It took her a beat to realize that he was leaving. _Lies and leaving indeed!_

"Oh no. No no no nope," River said, springing up behind him. She caught his arm, and he twisted away like she was burning him. "What is _wrong_ with you!" River snapped, grabbed his face firmly between her hands, and made him meet her gaze. _He's taller now,_ River thought vaguely to herself. Across the room, the waiter and bartender looked up, enthralled by the most interesting thing to happen all year. This really didn't need an audience. "Sit!" River hissed, and propelled him back into his seat.

She was thrumming in rage and despair and ... _Oh_. River looked at her hands. _Not her rage and despair. His. _

The Doctor was rubbing his face again. "Ran into my old friend the Master," he said.

Oh. _Oh_. Damn.

"I thought he was dead?" River said.

"I thought she was too," the Doctor answered. "And now she is. Or isn't. And I'm not sure which of those possibilities is worse."

River let that one slide. Knowing the Master, she had escaped again. "Female regeneration?" River asked. _Don't know why the Master didn't try that before. That would get to the Doctor, badly. _

"Right," the Doctor said dully, "complete with Earth-destroying plots, exploitation of our friendship, defiling the dead, deconstruction of my character, random murder of my friends, and a smidge of sexual assault. Plus, we all came to the conclusion that I'm not a good man. Just an idiot. Oh, and there were Cybermen. And lies. And Gallifrey."

River blinked. _Gallifrey? That was impossible._ "Come again?" She asked.

"Well, no Gallifrey, still. Good old Gallifrey: less destroyed than before, more lost than ever." His eyes were closed again, his head tilted backward. He laughed humorlessly to himself and then abruptly sat forward with a tremulous smile. "River Song. Melody Pond. My River." His long-fingered hands hovered over hers a moment before he gently lowered them. She noticed for the first time that his hands were torn apart, bruised and burnt and bloodied. He ran his thumb over her knuckles, feather light. The touch of his mind was the same, a whisper, because anything louder would betray his agony.

"You have had a hell of a day," he continued gently, "and this is quite the topper. Stupid, selfish old man, here to intrude on your peace. He won't do it again, I promise. Forget it, forget him. Young bow tie and braces will be along again in your life soon enough. He'll sweep you off to beautiful places full of mad adventures. " He waved a finger in her face. "You're not done kissing him either. Don't you think you are. Kiss him senseless for me, yeah? The next time you see him." The Doctor turned her hand in his, and softly traced the lines of her palm, sending shivers up her spine. "Miss you," he whispered, and stood.

River stared at him, then surged to her feet and grabbed his lapels. She lifted her hands and touched his face, the back of his neck, and pulled him down, his forehead against her own. His breath on her face, his fingers in her hair. He was shaking.

"You cannot possibly be about to leave like that," she whispered.

"Oh, River," he groaned. "This has been a terrible day. I couldn't bear it if today was also the last time I kissed you." He looked into her eyes, took a steadying breath, and stepped away. He took two steps backward, soaking her in, and then turned away with a shuttering sigh.

River pressed her hand to her mouth, her heart breaking for him. She was afraid for him. Worse, she was afraid _of_ him, if he truly believed that he was past hope and love. She sobbed, once. "Doctor!" she called to him. He stopped and tilted his head, but did not turn. "Don't travel alone," she begged. "Promise me you won't travel alone." He nodded, once, the movement almost imperceptible, and slipped away.

River collapsed into his vacated chair, and with a trembling hand finished the remains of his drink in one go. "Rule one," she murmured sadly.

"Bad day, ma'am?" the waiter commiserated as he collected the empty glasses.

"Yes," River said, and wept at the sound of the Tardis, taking the Doctor away. "Yes, I'm afraid it was."

Notes: This is immediately post "Day of the Moon" for River; post "Death in Heaven" for the Doctor. River is convinced, at the end of "Day of the Moon," that the Doctor's first kiss was her last, because she fears she will never meet an old enough version of him again. That isn't so, of course. At the least, she has the Singing Towers with her beloved, and probably much more. The Doctor, I'm afraid, does not.


End file.
